The best way to excape his ire Is, not to seem too happy.
A pretty woman's worth some pains to see.
Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!
Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!
'Tis well averred, A scientific faith's absurd.